There
by dancergrl1
Summary: Jules is sick, but she's also really good at hiding it. So she's shocked when Sam shows up, and even more when he stays.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm supposed to be mad at you." She huffs out the words thickly, her breathing clogged.

"Yeah, well, when you sound like hell over the comm, everyone starts to worry." He wraps his arms around her, and though she's tense, she doesn't fight it.

He resists jumping back from the heat coming off of her. She must've been burning up. He slips a hand to the back of her neck. She was burning up. "Jules?" His voice is calm, quiet, not belying the worry coursing through his veins.

She murmured something soft against his chest. "Jules," he said more insistently. She looked up at him, and he took her in quickly. Her eyes were glazed and tired, her face was flushed. Her cheeks were bright red. Now that she was facing him, he could understand her.

"Sam…'m…'m not feelin' so good."

He had to laugh at that. Not long, but only Jules would say something like that so nonchalantly. "I know. How about a quick shower and then some sleep?"

"Will...will you stay?"

"Of course."

He carried her up to the bathroom gently, as if she would break if he handled her wrong. He set her on the closed lid of the toilet, and she sluggishly began pulling at her clothes. He was running lukewarm water into the tub, adding a random bubble bath he'd found under the sink.

"Sam." His name was drawn out into a whine. "It's not….'s not working!" she exclaimed, frustrated.

He carefully took off her clothes, trying to catalogue any injuries that might have added to the illness already there. He was grateful to find nothing more than the standard bruises associated with the job. "Bath's ready, J, if you are."

She slid into it with a sigh. She wouldn't admit it was soothing the aches that came part and parcel with being sick. With her eyes closed, she heard Sam leave the room. She made short work of cleaning herself with him gone, and opened her eyes when he returned. He came balancing a glass of water, acetaminophen, and a change of clothes for her. "Sam...thank you." Even in her low tone, he could hear she meant it.

They sat in companionable silence, her relaxing, him keeping an eye on her, and when she began to shiver from the cooling water, he pulled the drain. "Sam?"

He looked at her evenly. "You're beginning to shiver, and you don't need to add to whatever is going on." She let the water drain around her, and stepped into the towel he had waiting for her. "I'll, uh, let you get dressed." He beat a hasty retreat.

She smiled tiredly. Even exhausted, how awkward he could be in times like this still made her laugh. She climbed into her clothes, making a vague note the sweatshirt was one of his, and padded softly to the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge.

"How're you feeling?"

She shrugged. She couldn't quite place the words. She was ok, but felt physically miserable and pretty out of it, and she was exhausted. He took the hint and folded down the corner of the blankets. She gratefully climbed in. "Sam...stay." Her request was plaintive, as if she expected him to leave. "Wouldn't go anywhere."

She dropped to sleep almost immediately, but Sam couldn't sleep. How long did she have to have been sick for before they'd caught it? She would run herself to the bone if she thought she was helping the team. Judging by her pallor, and her level of exhaustion, it had to have been a few days at least. They'd had two shifts in that time, and only this time did the team hear her thick breathing, her lack of focus. Greg had realized first and relegated her to the truck. Her focus was foggy, and they didn't need that on a call. Sam was kicking himself. He knew her better than anyone. He should've known.

He berated himself until he fell asleep.

Little did he know he'd be woken in just short hours.

_Jules couldn't escape it. She heard the bullets whizzing by, pinging off shields and burning through mechanical equipment. All of a sudden, there was a burning in her chest. _

_She couldn't breathe. _

_She couldn't talk. _

_She couldn't move. _

_All she knew was pain. _

_She breathed raggedly, just one more breath, Julianna Callaghan, just one more. _

_He's coming. _

_He's coming. _

_He's coming. _

_She couldn't see him, but she heard him. _

"_Jules, you're ok. You're ok, just open your eyes. Please, open your eyes."_

_She batted away the hand rubbing her sternum. She was here, she just needed to breathe. That was her focus. _

"_Jules, open your eyes. Please. Open your eyes. Let me see those pretty eyes." She fluttered them open, barely. _

And there he was...and there she was...in her room?

It hit her like a train.

She'd had the dream.

With him there.

There had been variations of it since the day she was shot, but mostly, she died on that roof...or in the ambulance...or the world just faded to black. "Sam." Her whisper was all he needed to envelope her in his arms. She felt his heart beat against her ear, and just tried to breathe. It was so hard. She slipped her hand to her scar, now healed, but phantom pain tearing through her chest. He felt the movement, and moved her hand to her heart, trapped between them.

"You're still here. You're here, and you fought like hell, and you are here. You're here, with me, and you're alive. You're here. I'm here. We're ok." He repeated the words, and she drifted off to their comforting litany.

He held her as they laid down. She had dropped back off to sleep almost instantly. He was concerned. It wasn't like her.

He'd know. She had been plagued with nightmares for as long as he'd known her, and her usual choice of action was to not sleep at all afterwards. So it was disconcerting that she was asleep already.

He decided to let her sleep, but he didn't sleep as deeply as he needed the rest of the night.

He was the first awake the next morning, another unusual occurrence. Usually she was up working on a project before the sun had risen. Sliding out of her arms, carefully putting them on the bed instead of around him, and stumbled to her hall bath. He took a military shower, and dressed in a spare set of clothes he found he'd left there. He poked his head around her door, but there was no movement. He resisted the urge to check to make sure she was alright.

Making his way downstairs, he pulled a pan out of the cabinet. He really was too familiar with this kitchen. Shaking his head, he ignored the thought. It had no bearing on the current situation. He jumped out of his skin when a familiar tone started ringing, and cursed himself shortly afterwards. He dove for the phone and answered it quietly. "Good morning."

Greg's even voice came over the line. "Good morning. How is she?"

Sam couldn't hold back his concern. "She's not herself. I was up before she was, and she had some dreams last night and she fell right back to sleep. Off the record, that's not like her."

"I understand. Keep us in the loop, you have the time you need."

Thanking him, he signed off quickly as he heard her descending the stairs slowly. He smiled as she entered the kitchen. "Hey, morning," he whispered. She smiled gratefully at him as she sat down heavily at the counter. She let out a small cough as he turned back to the stove. He popped in toast and started the eggs so they'd be done at roughly the same time. Protein was key, and so was foods she could keep down. He'd been through enough of this with her to know what was coming. While she waited, he placed two more pills and a small glass of water in front of her. She swallowed them, grimacing.

He placed the plate in front of her with a flourish, though the plate itself was lackluster. It was one slice of toast, and a small serving of eggs. She halfheartedly swallowed a few bites before she pushed it around. He watched her as he powered down his breakfast, enhanced with cheese and sandwiched in his own slices. She slipped a glance at him, and watched as he raised an eyebrow. Without needing words, he pointedly glanced at her toast, and then gave her a pitying look. She could read what his eyes were saying. She forced down the rest of it. It wasn't good.

He lead her gently to the couch, situating her under a light blanket. She drifted in and out, not entirely sure what she was watching, but she didn't really care. The toast was sitting heavily in her stomach, which itself was grumbling about its current predicament. She really didn't want to, but sometimes there was no choice about it.

Sam noted her pallor changing as he sprawled himself across the other section of her oversized sofa, mindlessly watching whatever she'd been watching last. It was some home renovation show.

As he watched her get more uncomfortable, he had an idea. He threw a towel in her dryer, and then went hunting in her bathroom. Finding what he wanted, he filled it and carefully brought it back. "Here, Jules. For your stomach."

She took it from him, not trusting what he was trying to do until she set it down. When the cramps subsided, she sighed in relief. "Thanks, Sam." She meant it. It was helping. The heat lulled her back to sleep again, and he let her.

He would be lying if he said he didn't fall asleep after her.

He woke to her writhing again, and he used the same tactic he had earlier that morning. She looked at him, and then just laid her head down on his chest. "Jules?"

She looked up at him. "I'm alright. You're just warm. And it's great." She yawned, but didn't fall asleep. She stared blankly at the TV. He ran a warm hand up and down her side, just reminding her he was there.

For right now, that was all she needed.

Someone who was just...there.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch 2

Sam was ashamed to admit he didn't notice when Jules shoved herself off the couch. He was so exhausted, their last shifts having been one hot call after another. He woke to hear her moaning in the bathroom, and he was alert instantly.

"Jules!" His shout was laced with panic.

"Sam." The whispered moan came from the bathroom.

He burst through the doorway to see her, covered in a sheen of sweat and pale as ever, huddled against the wall across from the toilet. Without even looking, he flushed it and closed the lid. He knelt next to her, running a hand over her head and to the back of her neck. She was still pretty warm. He slipped a glance at his watch, and cursed softly. It was too soon for another dose of fever reducers.

"How ya doin', Jules?"

If she'd had the energy she would've rolled her eyes. She rolled her head towards him and raised an eyebrow instead.

"Stupid question?" She closed her eyes in response. "You still feeling like you're going to throw up?"

She thinks on the question for a moment, and shrugs. She usually did, but it was probably more comfortable somewhere else. Somewhere other than the hall bathroom floor. Together, they stood up carefully, and Jules shut her eyes against the feeling that the world was spinning. When it seemed like it had balanced back on its axis, she looked at Sam, who was standing, waiting for her.

"Ready?" She nodded resolutely.

They ascended the stairs carefully. Sam held her gently, and she considered it as they crossed into her bedroom. He was still there, which was unusual. Usually, someone might help her out, but they'd always return to their lives once she was settled.

"Sam?" Her voice was quiet, hesitant. She had buried herself under the blankets.

"Yeah, Jules?" His voice was patient. He couldn't see her face and didn't want to risk upsetting her.

"Why...why did you stay?"

Sam felt like he'd just been kicked. He didn't understand why she was asking. "Why wouldn't I stay?"

Jules thought about her answer carefully. "Because...because I've been an awful bitch to you, and everyone, and we're not even together and you probably had other plans tonight but instead you're here with me." Her words came out measured at first, but jumbled around each other the more she said.

"Jules, i wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Sure, watching home improvement isn't exactly my favorite, but i'd do it if it meant i was keeping an eye on you while you're feeling like hell."

She couldn't accept his explanation yet. "But you're here because Greg sent you."

"He sent me because I asked him if he'd heard how you sounded. He sent me because he knew I'd come anyways. I'd've come if i'd had to break into the place."

She smiled faintly. The genuine care was clear in his voice. "Thank you." Her voice was a whisper, and he felt a shot of something fill his heart.

"Of course."

She fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.

Sam could tell she wasn't sleeping deeply, her brows were furrowed and she was moving too much. He pulled her close to him, reassuring her through touch he was here.

He was honestly shocked when it worked to calm her down. He'd never been able to calm her before. Still holding her closely, he slipped into a doze. Every time she moved, he subconsciously pulled her tightly to him and calmed her.

"Sam." She spoke softly, not sure if he was awake.

"Sam." This time it was more insistent. He murmured something.

"Sam?" THis time he was more awake.

"Jules...sick...you ok...huh?" Jules huffed out a laugh. He was clearly not with the program yet.

"Sam." Her voice was soft, but commanding. "Look at me." He met her eyes warily.

"Hey." It wasn't his most eloquent, but they weren't exactly at their best.

"I'm alright. How are you?" Her voice was clear, less groggy than the last several days, and she...she was cool to the touch.

"I'm...I'm ok. You're feeling better." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

She laughed lightly, followed by a quickly smothered cough. "Yeah...i think i am."

He moved to let go of her, knowing that she wasn't big on being touched pretty much ever, but she held on. "Stay...just a little longer."

Her words weren't meant to pass her lips.

Sam just whispered in her ear.

"Of course."


End file.
